Chapter 20: Rose
That evening as I was lying in bed, I heard the sounds again.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Against my ceiling. I threw the covers off me and stood up on my bed, trying to get closer to the noises.
“Say it,” the witch hissed.
I heard another groan. And the sound of a fireplace spitting.
“I’m losing patience with you.”
The smashing of glass. The screeching of heavy furniture against the floor.
Grabbing my dressing gown, I ran out my front door and crept up the stairs. I didn’t stop until I reached Caleb’s door. I pressed my ear against it, the voices now clearer.
“I need you to say it.”
“No,” Caleb grunted, low and deep. “Never.”
I pushed the door open, wincing as it clicked. I froze.
Oh, no.
There was a silence as the witch came into view at the other end of the corridor. She wore a long dark green dress, her loose hair running down her back. She sported a black eye and a deep bloody cut beneath her collarbone.
As soon as our eyes locked, fury sparked in hers. She walked over to me.
“Well, look who’s here,” she whispered, her voice dangerously low.
Before I could stagger back, she reached out and clutched my throat. I tried to scream, but it came out as a garbled choke. She was crushing my windpipe.
“Didn’t your mother ever teach you that it’s rude to eavesdrop?”
I gripped her hand, trying to pry her clammy fingers away from my throat, but it was useless.
“Leave her.”
The words came as a deep growl from across the corridor.
Caleb stood in the doorway, a gash beneath his lower eye, his shirt ripped and blood seeping through from several gashes on his chest.
The witch chuckled and continued to grip my throat, applying more pressure by the second.
Caleb launched himself at the witch. Gripping her neck, he held her in a choke until she released me.
I slid down the wall, gasping and rubbing my throat.
“Don’t take this out on her,” he snarled, hurling the witch against the marble floor. “And don’t drag her into your sick game.”
“You dare,” the witch hissed, her eyes dilating with fury, her cheeks crimson.
“Yes, I dare,” Caleb bellowed back down at her. “There’s nothing more of me you can break.”
The witch got to her feet, straightened out her dress, then after glaring daggers at me she stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind her.
His eyes burning with fury and his whole body still heaving, Caleb turned around and walked further into his apartment. He disappeared into a room at the end of the corridor, but he didn’t shut his door. I got to my feet and approached the door. I pushed the door open and entered.
As I looked around, I was horrified by the state the place was in. His spacious apartment appeared to be open plan—his bedroom, kitchen and lounge all ran into each other. The wallpaper was torn, canvas paintings on the wall ripped. Bloodstained bedding was strewn all over the floor. The curtains were ripped almost to shreds. Caleb sat in the corner of the bedroom, his back turned to me, in a wooden armchair. A bottle of liquor by his side, he was pouring himself a shot. I watched as he downed it in one gulp.
I approached his chair tentatively.
“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, without turning around. But he made no motion to pick me up and throw me out the door as he had done the day before.
I walked around and stood so that I was facing him. I stared at the gash beneath his right eye that was beginning to heal slowly.
“What happened?” I breathed.
He shook his head and downed another shot.
“Why do you allow her to treat you this way? Are you ruler of this island or not?”
He got up and walked over to the open balcony door, where he stood, gazing out at the starry night sky. The full moon shone down on his chiseled form.
The living room and kitchen area were in a much less damaged state than the bedroom. My eyes fell upon a collection of classical instruments in the corner of the lounge.
Since he didn’t seem to be willing to answer my questions, I asked, “You play?”
He looked over his shoulder at me as I pointed toward the instruments in the corner.
A faint smile crossed his face.
“No,” he said quietly. “Not any more.”
I walked over to the instruments and was impressed by the quality of their build. They were covered in a thick coat of dust, as though they hadn’t been touched for months, maybe even years. Although I specialized in the piano and the harp, I could play most instruments I saw here. My father was a master of many and had given Ben and I lessons in most.
I absentmindedly ran my hand over the top of the grand piano. Lifting up its cover, I sat down and stretched out my fingers over the keys. I began to play a tune. Soft, haunting, melancholic. I smiled bitterly—my father had played this for my mother when they’d first met.
Caleb left the balcony and walked over to me, placing his glass on top of the piano, staring down at me as I played. It was unnerving at first, playing beneath the intensity of his gaze, but I didn’t let it distract me.
When I finished, I looked up at him. He hadn’t moved an inch the whole time. His eyes had glazed over, as if his mind had wandered somewhere else.
“I’d like you to play for me again… Rose,” he whispered finally.
The way he said my name was gentle, as though his tongue was caressing the word. The attention he was giving me was unnerving—I was used to him brushing me away whenever he could. Perhaps it’s just because he’s drunk? I sure do strange things when I’m drunk. I stared into his eyes, trying to read him. The way he was looking at me was confusing. It was as though he was conflicted as to whether he ought to be looking at me at all.
“O-okay,” I murmured.
Although I didn’t get any of the answers that I needed that night, one thing had become clearer than ever. If anyone had the power and ability to get me out of there and save my brother, it was Caleb. And at that moment, befriending him—or at least trying to—seemed to be the only available option.